Very Merry Love
by ClaudiaWrites
Summary: Lily Evans is not very good at confessions, and this lack of skill comes back to bite her in the arse on Christmas Eve.


**Very Merry Love**

 **Note** \- I've written this fic in collaboration with highartist-munya's artwork on Tumblr. Do go check out her amazing work and leave her some love!

* * *

When she wakes up on the morning of Christmas Eve, Lily Evans is in considerably high spirits.

There's a glow on her face, a secretive smile on her pink lips, and a jaunty bounce to her steps, all of which is immediately noticed by her best friend, Mary MacDonald, as she accompanies Lily down to breakfast from the head's dormitory.

This is followed by countless speculations as to the reason behind Lily's good mood, of course, all of which are promptly denied by the red-haired witch in question, much to Mary's chagrin.

Once the pair of them reach the great hall, and Mary puts forth another two guesses, Lily sighs in exasperation, defeat, and clarifies that _no_ , it's not because the house-elves have gifted them with chocolate truffle cake at breakfast, not because Hogwarts smells completely Christmas-like—one of Lily's favorite smells, incidentally—and not _even_ because she finds herself free of her head girl duties, which are off to vacation along with the majority of the Hogwarts student body.

"Then _why_?" Mary hisses, stabbing the innocent wooden table with a fork, as if it has been treacherously privy to Lily's secret instead of her.

"No reason!" Lily clarifies for the hundredth time, throwing her hands up. And though she rolls her eyes for good measure, it does little to dim the excited spark in them. "It just feels like it's going to be a good day."

"Huh," Mary grumbles, finally looking away and readying herself to massacre some cake. "Maybe you finally grew a pair and snogged James."

This particular speculation is met with silence. A very _telling_ sort of silence.

"Oh, Merlin!" Mary's eyes widen comically as she looks up at Lily's burning red cheeks. "You didn't _actually_ —?"

"No!" Lily yelps, eternally grateful that Hogwarts was all but empty at this time of the year, and that there weren't any witnesses to this conversation.

Mary, however, doesn't see the need to be even mildly subtle as she narrows her eyes and points an accusatory finger at the head girl. "Lily Evans, you're hiding something from me and I demand to know what it is right now."

"Oh, quit the drama—"

"So your sickeningly chirpy mood and giddy smiles have _nothing_ to do with one six-foot tall raven-haired Adonis with honey brown eyes who's been absolutely smitten with you since the tender age of thirteen?"

"I—" Lily stops short, raising an eyebrow, "you know, by the way you talk about him, some would definitely think _you're_ the smitten one."

Mary waves this logical observation off with a scoff. "Those people aren't my best friend, and my best friend _should_ know that I can very well appreciate the opposite gender, even if this particular specimen is off-limits due to my unfailing loyalty towards said best friend."

"Mhm," Lily chews around her spoonful of cake, "understood perfectly, thanks."

"Don't change the topic, Lily!" Mary huffs again, this time rattling the cutlery as she bangs a fist on the table. Lily glares at her, an action which is pointedly ignored. "What aren't you telling me? _Why_ aren't you—"

"Okay, fine!" Lily gives in, and Mary's petulance all but disappears. She leans forward eagerly, encouraging her friend with vigorous nodding, even though it does little to dissipate the rising blush Lily can feel taking over her face. "I'm not— _we_ did not do anything."

"But—"

"No, listen, we didn't. James and I—we've been such good friends, and this year has been wonderful, working with him. He's changed so much, nothing like the idiot I used to know. Well, no, actually that's not true—he's still an idiot, but—"

"You're rambling."

Lily glares, " _But_ I feel like I really know him now. He's so sweet, and he goes out of his way to do all these things for me—you remember that time I fell sick and couldn't attend classes for two days? He took such good care of me, Mary, I almost didn't want to recover!"

"I still don't see why you haven't snogged him yet."

"I'm _getting_ there," Lily grits out. "So it's obviously no secret that I like him. A lot. But James—he hasn't given any indication that he might feel the same way. He's always been so vocal about his feelings, especially regarding me. I've been waiting for him to make a move all this time and—"

"Are you mental?"

"What?" Lily blinks.

But Mary looks pissed now, a reaction which seems completely unwarranted and surprising to Lily.

"No really, are you absolutely thick?" she continues, "After everything you _just_ said, admitted _yourself_ like literally two seconds ago, you think James hasn't given _any indication_?"

"Well, I mean he hasn't said—"

"He doesn't _need_ to, Lily, you daft cow!" Mary flails her arms wildly, and two second-year Gryffindor girls down the table throw her concerned looks. "At the risk of sounding cliché, actions speak louder than words! And any dumb fool can tell that James only has eyes for you. Any dumb fool other than you, evidently."

"I get that, but…it's _James_." Lily implores morosely. "James Potter is the loud, shouting-confessions-from-the-top-of-the-astronomy-tower type."

"No, James _was_ the loud, shouting-confessions-from-the-top-of-the-astronomy-tower type. He's changed, like you pointed out yourself a while back."

"That's not—"

"He may still be the bold, loud boy other times, yes, but I doubt he's going to be that way in this regard," Mary finishes sagely.

"Well, why the fuck not?!"

But all Lily gets in return is a cryptic shake of the head and a dramatic sigh, which only causes her to frown.

"You'll need to figure that out on your own, Lily," Mary says, "I just think you should—"

"I am."

"What?"

"I _am_ going to tell him. Today. If that's what you were getting at," Lily confesses, biting her lip as the impending blush crawls over her face.

Mary lets out an excited squeal at that, prompting Lily to shush her, even though she can feel her own heart swelling at the thought. "Well, why didn't you just _say_ so sooner, you dolt?!" Mary gushes, pulling Lily up by the hand and giving her an incredibly awkward hug over the table.

"Well, I don't know, we got side-tracked," Lily says, grinning as she sits. "I'm just tired of waiting around for him to make a move. So I thought, 'hell, what better time to go through with it than Christmas, right?'"

"This is perfect!" Mary claps her hands, and then proceeds to pile more cake onto her plate. "When are you doing it?"

"Well, he told me the boys were planning on sneaking off to Hogsmeade today, so I'll wait for him to get back in the evening."

"This is the most excited I've been since Sirius charmed Mulciber's pants to fall off every time he tried to speak."

"Knew you loved me, MacDonald."

Lily's heart gives a tell-tale thud at the sound of that voice. Well, not that _particular_ voice, but at the awareness that a certain previously mentioned 'raven-haired Adonis' often accompanied the owner of that voice.

She turns her head slightly to the left to find Sirius Black casually plopping down beside her, Peter taking his spot next to Mary, who rolls her eyes and deigns not to respond to Sirius's teasing.

Remus takes Lily's other side, looking a little worse for wear, which she attributes to the approaching full moon. James had mentioned they'd tried to convince Remus to stay and rest for the night, but he'd been adamant about accompanying the rest of the Marauders to Hogsmeade, lest he miss out on their last Christmas Eve at Hogwarts together.

The absence of the final marauder leaves disappointment hanging so heavily on her senses that Lily knows she's absolutely and inarguably _fucked_.

"Morning, Lily," Remus greets her now, blue eyes lighting up as he takes in the chocolate cake on the table. "The house-elves sure love to spoil us."

"They sure do," Lily says, giving him a bright smile. After a beat, "How are you feeling, Remus? James told me about you overexerting yourself. I really think you should stay in tonight—"

"James has always been a bit of a mother hen, don't let him pull you along into the pit of worry. I'm perfectly fine. I've been doing this for a while now, remember?" He adds at her dubious expression, throwing in a wink for good measure.

Lily sighs, nodding grudgingly. And then, before she can help herself, the words burst out of her. "Speaking of James, he wasn't in his room when I went to call him for breakfast…"

Remus chuckles and Lily knows she hasn't fooled anyone with her attempt at subtlety. Her cheeks color, but she holds Remus's gaze as he gives her a knowing look. Mercifully, he doesn't call her out on her maddening, glaring-everyone-in-the-face of a crush on the head boy.

"Well, he _did_ say he was going to pop by the Owlery in the morning to send home presents," Remus finally answers, a small smiling tilting up the corner of his mouth.

Lily huffs out a breath, her stomach a knot of nervous excitement again. And out of nowhere, she decides that this all-encompassing, overwhelming need to confront James about her feelings can no longer wait.

"Right," she says, standing up suddenly, much to the surprise of everyone around her. "Right, I've just remembered—I've something very important to discuss with James—"

"But school's on break, there aren't any head duties— _ow_!" Sirius yelps, reaching down to rub at his foot, which Lily's quite certain was the target of a vicious kick from Mary. "What the fuck, MacDonald?"

Mary ignores Sirius entirely. Instead, she gives Lily an overly sweet smile, eyes barely containing her overflowing glee. "Well, go on then!"

"Right," Lily repeats dumbly, as if it's the only word in her vocabulary now. She clears her throat, rubbing her suddenly sweaty palms over her heavy winter coat. With a final jerky nod to the occupants around the table, she stuffs her hands into the coat pockets and walks away with bravado she doesn't feel.

"Am I missing something?" she hears Sirius's annoyed voice carry over to her as she leaves the great hall, but is out of earshot before she can catch Mary's undoubtedly caustic reply.

It's freezing as Lily steps outside, and she pulls up the hood of her coat to cover her head and ears. She notices a couple of students milling about, laughing as they engage in snow-ball fights or take a walk around the frozen lake. The tip of her nose and cheeks are soon cold and pink, and she blinks against the snow that settles against her eyelashes. With a heavy exhale that turns her breath into a puff of smoke, Lily makes her way towards the Owlery, boots crunching on the snow-covered grounds of Hogwarts.

A thousand different scenarios play out in her mind as she walks, each scarier than the one preceding it. She can't fathom now how James did this all the time—bare his heart out to her every time, that is—because Lily's quite certain that she's well on her way towards an anxiety attack, thanks to doing this _one_ time, let alone contemplate doing it as many times as James had.

 _Had_.

Because he hasn't made a move in a long, long while—one year, three months and four days, but who's counting?—as she's already told Mary.

Lily can't help but be a bit bitter about that, no matter that she _knows_ that James doesn't owe it to her or anything. Merlin knows she'd been unflinchingly cruel in her refusals back in fifth year, even though he'd been a right _ponce_ back then, and has on more than one occasion admitted that he deserved her wrath.

She can't possibly imagine putting him through anything like those verbal attacks anymore though.

It makes her a little sick, the amount of feelings she has for the boy.

Lost as she is in her own thoughts, it takes Lily a couple of moments to notice that her search has been cut short and that the very object of her musings stands all but a few feet away from her as she takes a turn around a giant Gargoyle statue.

And although some might expect such a revelation to spur her into action, Lily is, after all, just a normal teenage girl who has simply been pushed into a situation she was not mentally prepared to encounter _just_ yet.

And so, once Lily spots James Potter talking to a very distressed seventh year Hufflepuff –Laurie Hemmings from Potions class, if she recalls correctly—with a stealthy maneuver that she would later commend herself on, Lily does what any other witch her age would do.

She swiftly retraces her steps and hides behind the Gargoyle statue.

The irony is not lost on her, of course, because she _had_ , after all, been headed to accost this very boy with a purpose. But now, all she can think about is how bloody hard her heart is beating, how dry her mouth has suddenly become, and how she _still_ doesn't know how to go about confessing her feelings to him.

'Hey James, this whole best-mate thing we have going on over here? Splendid. But you know what would be even _more_ splendid? Snogging.'

Yeah, not _quite_ what she'd peg as romantic.

Besides, Lily tells herself, Laurie's presence there while she spilled out her guts in all its mortifying glory was not exactly a part of the plan either. So waiting is what she'll do.

Yes, waiting. Not _hiding._

Not at all.

Bugger.

James has a very nice back, Lily observes during this wait. She's always known this tidbit of information, of course, but from this particular point of view, she has a chance to truly appreciate it.

She's hugged him enough times to know how well-toned his muscles are. Maybe she knows it a bit _too_ well, in fact, but that's beside the point. She's also tousled his mop of hair enough times to know how the soft strands feel against her fingers, but again, as she 'waits' behind the statue for James to finish talking to Laurie, Lily realizes that he has really marvelous hair. In an absolutely eccentric way, but marvelous nonetheless.

None of this is doing her hormones any good. Nor her nerves.

But all of a sudden, Lily is forced away from her James-Potter-back-appreciation checklist—before she can get to the really good parts too—as Laurie Hemmings lets out a giant sob.

She blinks, watching as the girl wails right there in the middle of the snow covered courtyard, throwing her arms around James. The head boy, to his credit, seems just as startled at this reaction, but—bless his soul—doesn't push away the clearly disturbed Laurie.

Lily can hear him mutter things like 'there, there' and 'it'll be okay' to the girl, and struggles with conflicting emotions within herself that accompany being an observer of this exchange.

On the one hand, she finds her heart melting, because even though James seems _clearly_ out of his element at having to console this person he barely knows, he's still unwilling to leave her alone while she's like this.

On the other hand…

Well, on the other hand, Laurie Hemmings had better stop _touching_ him already.

She finally does pull back from the hug, sniffling and teary-eyed as she stares up at James. He whispers something to her, and Lily is too far away to hear what he says, but her stomach clenches when Laurie laughs loudly, one hand still resting casually against James's arm.

And that's when it happens.

That ugly moment—the one which Lily is bound to remember as _the moment_ when she felt the shift, the change in the air—when Laurie's watery eyes softened just a bit _too_ much for her liking.

She knows it's coming obviously, thanks to _the moment_ , but it still feels like watching a nightmare in slow-motion, stuck with having a very bad viewing angle, that too, because Lily suddenly doesn't bloody care about James's back, she wants to see his _face_. Wants to see the expression in his eyes when Laurie reaches up and kisses him.

When Laurie fucking Hemmings _kisses_ him.

Lily feels sick.

More than sick. She feels like she can't breathe.

She wants to tell herself that James hates it, that the expression in his eyes is one of horror or disgust or a multitude of other negative emotions.

But the truth is she doesn't _know_ , and she _still_ can't tell because he's just standing there like a dolt. He's not pushing her away, and Lily has to consider…she has to consider whether he might actually be kissing her back?

Oh, Merlin.

Mercifully the kiss doesn't last too long, and Laurie pulls away within seconds, a small, knowing smile on her face. Her expression remains tender as she whispers something to James in yet again an infuriatingly inaudible volume.

Lily sticks around long enough to see that whatever James says doesn't change the Hufflepuff's expression, before she quietly turns around and leaves the scene, silent tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her coat is completely soaked through with melted snow by the time she enters the castle again, but Lily doesn't bother taking off her hood. She doesn't stop by the great hall either; instead, she simply makes her way back to the head's dormitory as fast as her legs can carry her.

The abundance of mistletoe hanging about the castle almost seems to mock her the entire way back.

* * *

There's a soft rap of knuckles against her bedroom door.

"Lil? Are you in there?"

She stirs at the sound of his voice, a new bout of tears welling up in her eyes, but she adamantly keeps them from spilling.

"Lily?" James knocks again, and then tries to open the door. But she'd locked it as soon as she'd entered her room, and doesn't plan on going out just yet. "Lily, are you okay?" He sounds panicky now.

This only makes Lily want to cry some more, of course, because how _could_ he? How can he act like he cares so much about her only an hour after kissing some girl out in the courtyard?

But she simply takes a deep breath, willing her voice to not waver, and replies, "I'm fine, James, just a little unwell."

There's a pause, and then, "Remus said you went looking for me? I didn't see you."

Oh, God.

"I did, but…it was nothing. I decided to just come back and take rest."

"Lily, can you please just open the door?" the handle shakes again, "you don't sound good."

"I told you, I'm just tired. It's…that time of the month," she says, hoping to scare him off.

She should know better though, because James is obviously undeterred and has never been freaked by her cycles and mood swings. But for the first time ever, Lily wishes that he wasn't so bloody _perfect_.

"Well, then, I'm going to be sitting out here. You tell me if you need anything at all, okay? I'll just let the lads know, they can manage Hogsmeade by themselves for this year."

Lily truly wonders if she's _ever_ had a worse Christmas Eve before this one, and whether the world is being especially cruel to her because she'd hexed Avery the other day.

It's really unfair if that's the case because, in her opinion, Avery deserved every single hex that came his way and more.

"There's no need, James," Lily replies now, "I'm fine. Don't—just don't cancel your plans. Please."

He must hear the quiet desperation in her voice, because suddenly, James doesn't push. Lily knows that this in itself is something of a miracle because James _always_ pushes when it comes to her well-being. He'd have to be completely thick to not notice something off about her now.

"Alright, fine. I'll leave you to rest," Lily hears him sigh. "Do you need me to get you something from Hogsmeade?"

"No, I'm good." She replies, her voice cracking slightly on the last syllable.

"Lily?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you okay?"

She bites her lip to stop the trembling, closes her eyes against the sincerity in his voice, and takes in a deep, calming breath.

"Yes, James, I'm perfectly fine."

* * *

It's the thirst that wakes her.

Lily doesn't know when she'd dozed off. It was probably due to the heaviness and the burning in her eyes that came from hours spent crying. The heaviness and burning that are yet to completely dissipate, and remind her of _why_ she'd been crying in the first place as soon as the thirst pulls her from her slumber.

The reminder doesn't bring forth anymore tears thankfully—and Lily thinks it's probably because there aren't tears _left_ to shed—but it does lead to a sharp pang within her chest.

A quick glance to her alarm clock tells Lily it's three-thirty in the morning.

Merry fucking Christmas to her.

She pushes off the covers, dazedly wondering how she'd had the good sense to change into her pajamas, and quietly pads into the bathroom.

The mirror inside reflects a pale, sullen face with dull green eyes and dry, tear-stained cheeks.

Lily sighs, opening the tap and splashing warm water onto her face. It doesn't do much for the leftover puffiness around her eyes, but at least it washes away the dryness and the tears.

By the time she's wiped her face and returned to the room, the house-elves have already put a goblet of water for her on the bedside table. Lily thanks them silently and downs the water in one gulp.

However, before she can return to bed and try getting some more sleep—no matter how unlikely that feels—something near the door catches Lily's eye.

She frowns in curiosity and walks over to pick up the object resting on the floor. As soon as she gets close enough, though, she realizes what it is and feels another pang against her chest, much stronger this time. She picks it up, and stares unblinkingly at it, willing herself to bloody stay in control.

For lying innocently on the palm of her hand is a huge bar of Honeydukes best chocolate.

Slid under the door and left there for her.

And it takes no genius to figure out by whom.

She'd _told_ him she didn't need anything. She was quite certain he'd even known that she'd lied about having her cycle, and yet…

And yet, he's still gotten her the damn chocolate.

Merlin, she _hates_ him.

Suddenly feeling like the room is closing in around her, Lily throws open her bedroom door, taking in huge gulps of air. Her fingers close around the chocolate bar, and before she knows it, she's snapped it into pieces, welcoming the rage.

Yes, she's _angry_.

So incredibly angry. And she knows it's selfish, hates feeling this way.

But _God_ , she deserves to be angry. Stupid Laurie Hemmings and stupid James and their stupid bloody kiss when James doesn't even _know_ Hemmings properly like Lily knows him and—

Her eyes fall on the tall bottle standing on the table near the fireplace.

She walks over and plops down on one of the plush couches where she's spent more than a few evenings studying and bantering with James. With the fire spreading a comfortable sort of warmth over her chilled skin, Lily screws open the bottle of firewhiskey James has so clearly forgotten on the table before he'd gone off to wherever.

Lily knew he wasn't in his room when he hadn't emerged after the ruckus she'd created by throwing open her bedroom door and banging it against the wall.

Not wanting to feel so wretched anymore, she closes her lips around the bottle and takes a deep swig.

* * *

When James gives the password and enters the heads dormitory, he's met with the last scene he expected to encounter.

But the sight of Lily—passionate, steady, _collected_ Lily Evans—sprawled over the couch near the fireplace with the bottle of firewhiskey he'd forgotten in his hurry hanging precariously from her fingers is exactly what he's greeted with.

James sighs, massaging his temples as he makes his way over to the head girl.

It's been a long, long day, and fuck, since when did _Christmas_ start feeling tiresome?

Since Lily had answered him from her room in a piss-poor attempt at sounding fine, obviously. It's been eating at him since he'd left her—both her behavior and her lying—and now, finding her with that bottle of firewhiskey, confirms his suspicions that something is very wrong indeed.

"Lily," James calls, because she clearly hasn't heard him enter. She turns her head around to face him, nose and cheeks a merry red to match her glowing hair. But her eyes—they're what stop James short. Her eyes look heart-breakingly sad, though the expression in them quickly morphs into annoyance at the sight of him.

James feels an arrow go through his chest at that. He hasn't been on the receiving end of that look in ages, and had almost forgotten the damage it could do to his still-pining heart.

He swallows, schooling his features into an amused smile. Thankfully, the bottle in her hands isn't too empty, meaning it hasn't been long since she'd started. "Enjoying ourselves, are we?"

"Go away, James," Lily says. She turns back to stare out the window, where the moon is almost full and snowflakes silently drift past, some collecting against the window pane crannies.

The arrow digs a little deeper, but he's undeterred. "Are you mad because I wasn't here? Moony wasn't feeling well so we had to take him to the hospital wing. I lost track of time, I'm sorry."

"No, it's not—" Lily sighs, eyes shifting to him and something like guilt flickering across her face. "How is he now?"

"A little feverish, but otherwise fine."

"Okay," she nods, "I'll go visit him tomorrow."

"What about you?" James tries, "How are _you_ now?"

He literally feels a solid wall go up around her suddenly. "Why'd you care?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean why do you care how I am?" Lily's eyes flash, "Or if I'm unwell? Why'd you have to go and get me the stupid chocolate from Honeydukes?" she points to the table, where, sure enough, the bar of chocolate James had picked out for her lies in a misshapen mess.

He clenches his fists, feels like someone has punched out his heart, and can no longer pretend. "What's going on, Lily?"

She stands up then, setting the bottle back on the table and looking at him properly for the first time since he's entered the room. There's no glaze to her eyes, confirming that she isn't drunk—just toasty enough to have her emotions riled up—but it also means that she's sober enough to know what she's saying and how much it hurts James.

"Why did you bring me the chocolate?" Lily whispers, the tension in her voice altering the entire atmosphere of the room.

And James immediately knows. He knows she isn't looking for a throw-away answer like 'because you weren't well' or 'because you like chocolate'. She's looking for _the_ answer. The one James is scared out of his mind to give her. Doesn't think he _can_ when she's looking at him like that.

"You know why," he says, his voice just as soft as hers.

"No, I don't!" Lily immediately fires back, startling James. He's so confused because there are tears in her eyes now and she looks entirely frustrated and he has no bloody idea _why_. "I don't know. I thought I did, but now…"

"Look, I'm completely lost—"

"What do you want from me?"

"What?" The question takes him aback.

"You heard me."

"What do I want from you? What are you—? Lily, you're my best mate." Lie. And the truth.

"Is that all?"

James blinks, and now he's really looking at her. _Really_ noticing her.

Lily's arms are wrapped around her middle, pajama pants hanging loose around her hips. Her eyes are slightly swollen, her hair a mess, and though James previously attributed the redness of her face completely to the mind-boggling anger being directed at him, he second guesses that assertion now. With her lips down-turned into a frown and eyes looking more sad than angry, James realizes he's never seen Lily quite this vulnerable before.

But before he can read more into it or even reply to her question, Lily takes his silence to mean something else altogether.

"It's fine, I get it," she nods, suddenly all frank and collected again. "You've never given any indication and I—I shouldn't have assumed. Obviously I should've thought…it's been so long since you'd said anything, so of course you'd find someone else—"

"Merlin, what are you _on_ about?"

James feels his heart hammering away against his chest, because if what she's saying—what he _thinks_ she's saying…

But Lily just bites her lip, shakes her head, and walks past him.

Yeah, like _that's_ gonna happen.

"Lily, stop." James reaches out and wraps his fingers around her wrist, preventing her impromptu escape into the confines of her room. "Talk to me. What's this about? What do you mean 'I'd find someone else'?"

"You _know_ what I'm talking about."

"Trust me, at the moment, I'm as clueless as they come. Did I do something to make you mad at me?"

"No!" She huffs, "Or maybe. I don't know, okay?"

"Helpful."

"Oh, shut up."

"Seriously though, what's eating at you?"

"I _saw_ you! In the courtyard this morning," Lily finally answers, throwing a significant look his way as if it's supposed to mean something. The response is so far away from what James was expecting her to give that for a moment he's utterly confused.

The courtyard? What on earth does that have to do with anything?

But of course it comes back to him. In startling clarity, that too. He knows what she's talking about, it can't possibly be anything else. And though James doesn't mean to do it, he cringes outwardly.

"Oh," he says, "that."

The two simple words seem to deflate something in Lily, the fire burning out of her. "Yes, that. I _was_ coming to talk to you, but you were clearly otherwise occupied with Laurie Hemmings."

James would later think back on this moment and savor the way Laurie's name fell off of Lily's lips with a bitter edge, but for now, all he can do is panic.

"It really wasn't what it looked like," He is quick to explain, "Laurie was just upset because McLaren The Ponce broke up with her over owl-post of all things. And I was just there; she doesn't really even like me. Nor do I like her! Not like that, at least. And—wait a second. How much of it did you see?"

"What does that even _mean_?" Lily thunders, though James is supremely thankful that she's no longer subdued. "If you're going to try and lie your way out of this—"

"No! Of course not, Lily, what the hell—?"

"I saw her kiss you, if that's what you were wondering."

"And did you stick around for what happened _after_ that?" James throws back, wanting to shake some sense into her. "For what I said to her?"

"I—no. No, I didn't think there was anything to wait around for."

"Well, you _should_ have, instead of jumping to mad conclusions and driving the _both_ of us mad."

"Gee, James, I'm sorry I didn't want to stay and watch Laurie stick her tongue down your throat."

"That's _not_ what happened."

"Then what happened?!"

"I told her I liked someone else!" James yells, throwing his hands up into the air. His breathing is ragged, face red—not entirely out of frustration—and he doesn't remember moving from his spot, but suddenly he's standing only inches away from Lily. He takes in a deep breath, then releases it slowly. "More like she guessed it when I didn't kiss her back—was too shocked to, and I wasn't interested anyway."

"You didn't kiss her back?" Lily whispers, and the change in her voice shifts something within James.

He looks down at her, the face he's come to know so well this past year, and yet can never get enough of. He knows it's impossible, but he can swear she gets more beautiful by the day, doesn't matter that Sirius won't stop slugging him over the head whenever he voices this thought.

"Of course not, you madwoman."

"Why not?"

He smiles slightly then, an uncontrollable giddiness spreading through the rest of him. Because now he's certain—certain that he hasn't been reading too much into this situation. He can dare to hope for something he hasn't allowed himself to hope for before. At least not for a very long time.

"Like I said, there's someone else who's got my attention. In fact, she's held it for as long as I can remember."

Lily steps closer, a tentative smile of her own blooming across her face to mirror his. "Would I happen to know this person? You know, in case I need to warn her or something."

"You think receiving my affections warrants an advanced warning? I'm hardly that scary, Evans."

"Not you," her grin spreads. "I might have to warn her to be careful of _me_."

James gulps, his heart rate spiking. "And why's that?"

"There might be a bit of a conflict of interest, you see. I've just recently learnt that jealousy doesn't become me."

"Don't think we'll have much of a problem there, then," James reaches out and gently lays a hand against her cheek, "you don't have anything to be jealous of at all. Conflict resolved."

Lily's hand comes up to lightly touch his arm then, and she tilts her head in the most alluring of ways. "James Potter."

"That's a very nice name, I agree."

"Kiss me before I strangle you."

He doesn't need to be told twice, obviously. Kissing Lily Evans has been his dream since he was barely old enough to even be attracted to girls. Thirteen year-old James would have died and gone to heaven at the prospect. Seventeen year-old James is no better off, but now it's no longer about kissing Lily Evans, the most beautiful girl he's ever known. It's about kissing _his_ Lily, the clever, witty, sneaky head girl, his best-friend who sometimes cooks up ideas even crazier than his own, and yet never compromises on her kindness and compassion.

So James pours his heart and soul into the kiss, trying to convey all of those feelings and more.

Soon enough, he's scrambling for more of her, for more contact. Lily, luckily enough, has no mind of slowing down either.

Her lips are soft and warm as they slide against his, her mouth tasting like an intoxicating combination of firewhiskey and strawberry lip balm. Lily's arms snake around his neck, and she rises up on her tip-toes to fit her body more snuggly against his. James soon has her backed against the wall, fingers entangling themselves in her hair as she pulls him impossibly close.

When a skilled sweep of his tongue coaxes the most delicious of sounds from Lily—a tiny moan that rattles all of James's nerves—he forces himself to pull back against all protests that his body puts up. He has to take a few seconds to convince himself that he'd probably lose most of his self-control if he let himself go there, especially when Lily has clearly been drinking, no matter that she isn't technically drunk.

But Lily understands, and when James drops his forehead against hers with a softly uttered 'fuck!', all she does is giggle and place a sweeter-than-candy kiss on his lips.

"Merry Christmas, James," she whispers.

Indeed, Merry fucking Christmas to him.

* * *

 **A/N** \- Reviews are as good as James and Lily sharing kisses and cuddling on a cold, snowy day.


End file.
